


Down to Earth

by MishMash72



Category: Half Life 2 (game), Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Wheatley return from space.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishMash72/pseuds/MishMash72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to Wheatley after Glados brings him back from space?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Glados was talking to herself again. Atlas and P-Body shifted nervously as she continued to debate.

"I deleted you. Goodbye Caroline,"

He tried to save me from becoming you...

"That metal ball? That moron. I would have remembered."

You didn't remember where I lived inside you. I remember Wheatley. He tried to stop me being downloaded into you...

"He is in space. I fixed him,"

He tried to fix me. Alone, out there, is too cruel...

"What do I do with a stupid moronic metal ball? He was programmed to make stupid desicions. He cannot be trusted with MY facility."

You can fix him. You can save him. Atlas and P-Body have found the remaining test subjects. Remember how excited you were?

"For science. Ha. Ha. Ha."

What?

"I know which chamber to use. My hobby was going to be re-animating the dead. Now I can see if that works."

What!?

Glados perused the remaining test subjects. Amongst them was a tall, fair haired Brit who she vaguely recognised – an image remained as a back-up file in her main frame but there was very little time to waste. However, before waking him...

"Space!"

"Yes I know we're in space mate! Yeah, we're in space. Just – actually why are you orbiting around me? I'm not that dense!"

Initiating retrieval. Prepare for recall to Aperture Science.

"Prepare? Actually they said that if the back of me suddenly opened..."

Retrieval process engaged. Activating portal ray in 3, 2,

"Hang on!"

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What Wheatley had always thought of as draughts became a rushing wind as he was drawn towards the Earth at frightening speeds. Retrieval had been the furthest thing from his mind as he had drifted with an obsessive space core for company. His last image before powering down was an Aperture logo and an ominous yellow eye glowering at him.

"Wake up moron."

"Not a moron," mumbled Wheatley as he looked around the lab. He couldn't swivel or pivot to look around so he had obviously not been returned to his management rail.

"Why don't you sit up and examine yourself?" suggested Glados, with a glee unusual for a mortal enemy who'd once been a potato (Bad Bad idea, Wheatley thought. Not trying that again)

Hang on, sit up?

Wheatley slowly and carefully raised himseld on his upper supports – arms, wasn't it? – and warily glanced around him. Glanced – hang on – two optics? Throughly frightened now, Wheatley up and ran his plates – no, hang on, hands, over his new (old) body with a growing sense of terror. What has happened to him? Why was he so gangly, so unkempt? 

"If you're not a moron," and here Glados's tone suggested that was highly unlikely, "then an upgrade seemed the best suprise I could give you,".

"Where's Chell? "

"Oh you should have a lot to talk about. She's still alive, even after all you put her through."

"I want to see her!"

"Be my guest." An array of monitors swung towards Wheatley and the replays began. The testing, the taunts, the lair. His mocking voice filled the room.

"Am I unclear? I depise you! You loathsome woman! This could have been a triumph! All I wanted to do was make eveything better for me."

"I didn't mean that! It was the mainframe, the itch!"

"Brain damaged like a fox!"

Had he really said all that to Chell? His only friend? My God, how she must hate him.

"Only a moron would have said all that to someone who was only trying to help them." 

Dispondent, Wheately stared at his friend tripping and sliding over gels – lethal gels, his memory pointed out – staggering with fatigue – not even looking back at him when he yelled at her to come back. 

"You will require some clothes before you leave this facility."

Wheatley didn't bother to look at Glados. "Where will I go?"

"How you spend your short sad life is none of my concern. When I look out there it makes me glad I'm not you. Now go."


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheatley re-emerges into the world....

Chapter Two

Dressed and depressed, Wheatley travelled upwards towards the surface, dimly noting the wall panels adjusting and no blue screens to mark each level. No boxes with legs, but the occasional turret guarding each exit, in case he changed his mind. His optics were leaking but glass panels in frames blocking his (fronds? Fingers?) from wiping them. Some thicker moisture was escaping from the vents at the front of his head and he absent-mindedly wiped that away with the back of his panel- no, hand.

The blue (sky?) was bright as he staggered out of the door. Surrounded by grass – wait, was grass yellow? – Wheatley spotted imprints on the brown. A grid of 4 small boxes, 4 large boxes and a heart remained on the ground as a faint imprint, as though a Companion Cube had tumbled out onto the ground. Had Chell taken a cube? Not that he'd ever find out, he supposed.

There was no path. No guide as to where to go. Wheatley cautiously took a few steps, and, despite overbalancing and waving his arms a few times, managing the art of walking. There seemed to be a set of buildings in the distance, so, with no other plan emerging, Wheatley pressed on towards the town. It would have been good progress if a bird had not chosen that precise moment to alight, sending Wheatley into a panic, yelling "Bird, bird," and running wildly towards the horizon. He would have run for a longer time, if his supports hadn't tangled and sent him face first to the earth.

Timidly, he looked up, but there was no sign of the bird, no doubt protecting her eggs – they were livid if you took them, Wheatley remembered. Scrambling up, he continued to walk. The buildings only seemed a little closer and the top of him, behind his face, was throbbing continuously. There were no clouds in the sky and it was a warm day. His south – no, mouth – was very dry and it was becoming more difficult to move. Perhaps he should power down and continue the trip later.

But he had no batteries to re-charge, no management rail to support him. Lying down in the yellow grass made his face explode – you cannot keep your optics open when you do that, he found – and although he was tired, he couldn't seem to switch off. Lying on his back, he watched the blue darken and stars emerge and realised with some wonder that he was looking into space. How was the Space core now, he wondered? Where was Chell? He was friendless, alone and very tired, with no idea what to do next.

He powered up slowly, with his mouth even dryer and the pounding worse. He needed to find help, possibly from other humans – would they help him – they were certainly tenacious enough, he decided. The earth seemed to wobble as he stood upright. Some dim memory from the time he looked after the smelly humans – oh he'd said that to Chell as well – suggested heat sickness but Wheatley was in too much pain to care. He fell on the yellow grass as a beeping filled his head. Weakly, he looked up as a small robot hovered over him, scanning him, then shooting away. 

 

"Very dehydrated, unarmed, bringing him in for hospital stay." The driver of the hover-medic sped over his neighbour's field, bringing a very tall male back to Vance City, named after Dr Freeman's partner, who had defeated the Combine alongside him. Slowly society had started to re-build, using the technology that the Combine had left behind. Healing was the main beneficiary, with the Vortigants helping humanity – you could cure everything bar old age nowadays. They would examine him at the medic centre and heal him there.

The tall, painfully thin man was connected to a saline drip but remained unconcious, lightly breathing with the occasional sudden twitch. His glasses placed neatly alongside him, a light covering of strawberry blond hair covered his face in contrast to the paleness of his skin. Lifting his head gently to one side, sunburn covered the back of his neck and – what was this at the top of the vertebrae?

A small disc, imprinted with Aperture, lay at the base of the skull. A gentle pressure produced a low moan of pain from the patient. They would have to scan him to see where that went. A nurse applied cream to his dried mouth as the doctor examined him – at some point he had been strapped down and various instruments applied – that was as much from the scars on his limbs. When had the last of the Combine been killed in this area? Was there a rogue cell still active near their town? And did this have anything to do with the mute woman who had simply walked into Vance City two months ago?


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheatley gets some care

Chapter Three

Wheately awoke, very confused as to why he was in another lab. At least he could move, although what were all these tubes on him? And in him? Once connected to the tube at the base of his body – what was the use in that? 

"Hello," smiled a female human at him – they had more like Chell. Well, of course no-one was like Chell obviously –   
"How are you feeling?" Strange question!  
"With the plates," Wheatley stated, holding up his hands. "I examined myself when I first woke up."  
This information seemed to reduce the smile on the female human's front and she glanced towards a doorway. "Would you like to try some food?"   
"Oh yes, please," stated Wheatley. He knew about food from the information files on taking care of s – no humans, just humans. Some liquid was brought in, a bowl of something red, with a brown crust of something else next to it and a yellow curve next to that.

"Oh, this is soup," and Wheatley picked up the bowl ready to consume it. 

"Maybe the spoon," suggested the female, signalling another human in a white coat to enter the room. Wheatley dutifully picked up the metal curvy thing but had no idea how to use it – the scientists had always shooed him away from dining areas when he had been on his rail. The female instructed him on how to use the metal and break the – oh, so that was bread – and slowly Wheatley consumed his first meal. When it came to the curve, the skin was very tough until the female showed him how to peel it.

"What is your name?"  
"Wheatley, human."  
"What is your first name, Mr Wheatley?"  
"I'm Mr Wheatley? Hang on, I don't have a first name, well, I don't think so, you see, everybody called me Wheatley when I was on my management rail, of course you get to see everything from there but no-one talks to you – "  
"What is a management rail?"  
"The rail I was attached to! And the scientists lied to me, they said that, if I disengaged myself from the management rail, I would die!"  
"How were you attached to a rail, Mr Wheatley?" The doctors looked slightly confused but kind – sympathetic – was that the word?  
"Well, as a fully functional Personality Sphere, it was my job to maintain the sme- I mean, the humans. Fascinating folklore, humans. Love em!"  
"Mr Wheatley, you were a Personality Sphere?"  
"Oh yes! Fully equipped by Aperture, responsible for Test Subjects. Mind you it was a lot easier after Glados was killed – proper mainiac.."  
"What were you equipped with?"  
"Oh, a flashlight for one, which came in handy for the escape I can tell you, She tried to bring down the whole facility when she was switched on again, we had to run,"  
"Can you use your flashlight now?"  
"Oh yes. Ermm I can't do it while you're watching,"  
"I see." Obediently the doctors turned to the wall. Wheatley stretched back and – nothing. 

"I'm human." Said flatly with a trace of embarassment. Wheatley glanced to the floor – holding everything up adequetly it seemed.  
"Yes, you're human. It seems to us that you have been through a very tramatic time. We would like you to stay and talk to us. Would you like to do that?"  
"Yes."

The female – Dr Cross, it stated on her id, stood up and smiled at him.   
"May I just examine something, Mr Wheatley? Your disc?"  
That was confusing – did humans have discs – but Wheatley nodded, leaning forward nervously as the doctors walked to each side of him.

"Here," she said and placed her fingers on the base of his skull.

"Owwwww! That hurt, that really hurt!" Wheatley shifted to the far edge of the bed as the two doctors apologised and tried to calm him.

 

Report of Patient – Wheatley

Brought into this facility one month ago, patient is slowly adapting to everyday life. Limited social skills due to extreme isolation. Very undernourished and pale, indicating inprisonment of some kind. Various deep scars on limbs and metal object on base of skull. No record of first name. Behaiviour similar to previous "feral" or isolation cases.

Has created alternative existence as a "Personality Sphere," tending to "Test Subjects," When measured, he was 6 feet 7 inches with a southern English accent and has gained a healthy amount of weight. Has no explaination as to how he arrived in the USA.

Metal object at base of skull, inscribed "Aperture Science," the focus of patients delusion. No such record of any facility or company named "Aperture," applying to examine "Black Mesa" archives in due course. Patient suffers extreme embarassment regarding acts of defececation and urination and frankly does not believe in the theory of human reproduction. Is generally very friendly and extremely talkative. Does not show signs of agressive behaviour or violence. Does get angry at the mention of certain words.

WARNING:- Following words are not to be spoken to patient – moron, potato and bird.

Sedative drugs are to used with extreme caution with patient – very senstive to medication and extremely frightened of needles. Trying therapy overseen by Dr Cross, who reports promising progress. Has taken trips into Vance city with other members of Dr Cross's group. Repeatedly mentions "Chell."

The report flickered on Alyx's monitor as she leant back in her chair. So there was an Aperture science and they did have Test Subjects. She picked up her communicator.

"Gordon, you might want to see this."


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheatley in the hospital

Chapter 4

"Wheatley, you need to drink. Here, it's your favourite, tea." Dr Cross was a patient woman, but her worry was that Wheatley would develop kidney stones if this aversion carried on.  
"No, I'm fine, really. Oh, look at the lovely flowers!" Wheatley babbled, trying desperately to create a moment of confusion. It didn't work.  
"Wheatley, we've been through this. You need to drink fluids throughout the day. It is not dirty or embarassing to urinate – or defecate, for that matter. It is a perfectly healthy- "  
"Dr Cross!" a nurse called and Wheatley took the opportunity to slip amongst the hedges and hide from her.

Being human was very confusing. You had internal workings that had a mind of their, parts that leaked inconviently, one part that stood up and made a tent in his bed – he had no idea what brought that on. Humans liked to chat but seemed distant when he spoke of Aperture – as though they didin't believe him. And no-one mentioned Chell. In his mind (not memory chip, he understood that now) she was alive, a resolver of problems, defiant and brave – a lot braver than him. But, after visiting the nearest city a few times, he had not seen any trace of her, and did not suggest visiting again. Humans were noisy and fearful sometimes. Dr Cross had explained about a war and the Combine. Wheatley understood that the world outside was still trying to re-build and people were still wary and confused. He knew what that felt like. Dr Cross had also mentioned something about a Vortigant removing the disc at the base of his skull. What was a Vortigant? Some kind of machine? It didn't have needles, did it?  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"There was an explosion some years ago near what is now Vance City, " explained Alyx as she sped towards there with Gordon. "Various metal fragments were analysed but they never found the original labratories. There is limited information about an Aperture science that manufactured shower curtains in the 1950s, but they seem to have gone underground since then. A gentleman called Cave Johnson had information redacted regarding the 1967 astronaut hearings – he ran the Company. There is no further information on him." Gordon nodded. "A Caroline Michelle ran the Company with him – there's no last name," Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Why would a shower curtain company need test subjects, Gordon?" Gordon shrugged. Why did Black Mesa use physicists as they did? Did Black Mesa know what consquences it would cause? Who knew?

 

"Ms Vance and Dr Freeman will be coming tomorrow to see your patient. They will be bringing a Vortigant to help him,"

The Proctor stared over his glasses at her. Two years ago, Dr Cross had seen the Proctor and the gardener, a Russian named Vilko married and since then the Proctor had seemed a supremely contented man. Whether he knew of Vilko's habit of naming his garden tools was unknown. Nevertheless, he remained a friendly, if somewhat aloof character, which is why she was suprised to called in his office.

"Why Wheatley?" 

"They wish to talk to him. Something about the Aperture Science that he mentions, however that is all I know. They wish this to be private though – no big fuss or fanfare."

"Aperture Science is his coping mechanism surely? He has obviously been isolated for so long."

"He mentions a woman called Chell though?" 

"Convienent that she's a mute – if she exists." Thinking again though, Wheatley hadn't mentioned her in the last few sessions – she had thought that was a sign of improvement. Instructed to tell no-one of the visit,, save Wheatley of course – although if she told him, she might as well inform the whole facility. A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. The Proctor called his partner in and Dr Cross made her excuses and left, closing the door on a giggle and "Liebling!"

Why were two high profile figures in the New World so interested in a fictional coping construct by a delusional patient? Wheatley was obviously a lonely figure, thrown on his own limited intelligence to create a fantasy world – one in which, unusually, he was not the central figure but the assistant to a brave glamourus women named Chell – most delusional constructs have themself as the hero. 

She would have to talk to Wheatley again. 

 

She found him the library, poured over another book.   
"Wheatley, tell me about Aperture. How did you get there?"  
"I don't really remember. I was a ... a scientist, I think." He looked worried about the question and started to bite his lip.   
"Why were you a Personality Sphere? I don't understand how that works."  
He thought for a long time. "Caroline. Her name is Caroline."  
"Who is Caroline?"  
"Cave? I don't remember, I don't know." His breathing had sped up and the last thing she needed was to agitate him.  
"Wheatley, try to remember."  
"They put her in Her. I couldn't stop them. Then it was black, so dark. Aperture goes down, down into dark, for miles. The turrets, the turrets used to sing." Wheatley slammed his book shut. His eyes were leaking again. "Why can't I remember. I am a moron!"   
"No, you're not. You are a very brave man."  
"Chell was the brave one, I couldn't even leave my rail until her," he said thickly.  
"But you did. You helped her."  
"And then I made her do tests over and over until She sent me into space."  
"Are Chell and She the same person? I don't under-"  
"No! Never! She was a proper maniac! I coudn't stop her!" Wheatley could say no more and sobbed into Dr Cross's arms.

She hoped the Vortigant could do some good. She really did.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vortigaunt helps Wheatley, after the arrival of Gordon and Alyx

Chapter Five

It had taken a long time to settle Wheatley down after the talk in the libarary, Dr Cross reflected ove a drink at home. Outside, the noise had of the city faded away and a peaceful lull now remained.

Nighttimes seemed to be the worst time for her. Time to reflect on her work and whether she was actually doing any good. Science had been her love for as long as she could remember, but it had been corrupted so much during the time of the combine, after the eight days war. Water was still purified and rationed – she longed for the times he could soak in along luxurious bath, unlike the 5 min rationed showers she was used to. So many cases of post tramatic stress disorder came through the Medic centre – could she really help them all? And why was Gorden Freeman, a virtual messaih of the Resistance, coming to Vance City to see her patient? Was there some shred of truth behind Wheatley's tales of Aperture Science?

She needed independent proof before she could reconsider Wheatley's tale. It didn't help that he disolved into grief and guilt whenever she tried to broach the subject – was she doing more harm than good? He never wanted to leave the Centre now – the outings had only prompted more questions about Chell, his fantasy women. She drifted to sleep in the chair, her wine beside her almost drained, slipping into dreams.

Alyx also dreamed, twitching fitfully next to Gordon, as they sped towards Vance City. Again, her father suspended before her, telling her to look away, feeling completely helpless as Dog arrived to beat the attackers off – too late – again. She moaned and Gordon shook her shoulders, well used to the pattern of her dreams. She awoke, and buried his face into his shoulder, a quiet comfort in the middle of the night.

Wheatley lay awake, his hands still damp from the convulsive hand washing after the long delayed nocturnal visit to the bathroom. Thinking of Chell and wondering – was she alive? Would she know that he was alive? Would she care? One of the cleaners had mentioned a mute woman – was it her? Where was she? Would she forgive him?

Two transports arrived at the Medic centre early the next morning, Alyx and Gordon in one, the Vortigaunt in another. The Proctor appraoched and bowed, which embarassed the visitors, but after introductions and a brief breakfast, Dr Cross led them to Wheatley's room.

Wheatley made the standard response when confronted by a tall green alien – he shrieked and cowered in the corner. Dr Cross mentioned a sedative, but the Vortigaunt refused and moved slowly towards him.

"Don't worry," was the last thing Wheatley heard before the darkness took him. Warmth surrounded him, enclosed him. A tightness began at the back of his head and he slowly lifted his hand, only to have it gently held as something was tugged – sharply! – and then a release.

Wheatley's breathing steadied as the Vortigaunt handed the disc to Dr Scott, surrounded by wires that had been inserted into his brain. Wheatley had a small smile on his face as the Vortigaunt held his hands over him and the others left the room.

Colours, so many colours and people! People he had not thought of for so long now approached and smiled at him. His parents, who had encouraged him to study, friends at school, the small clique at the Science club who had looked out for one another in Bristol. The girls he had dated, the work colleagues... Caroline, the co-boss of Aperture, who had promoted him to supervisor, the creator of the Personality Cores. He smiled at them, reached for them, all pain forgotten as the scars faded from his body and knowledge filled his mind.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyx finds out more about Aperture Science.

Chapter Six

Alyx smiled at the doctor. "What has he told you about Aperture Science, Dr Cross?"

"He cannot give us a lot of detail, he gets very upset whenever we try to dicuss it. I thought it was a construct to cope with his isolation."

Alyx pondered this. "Let me tell you what we know."

"Aperture was founded in the 1950s, by a businessman called Cave Johnson, registered as a shower curtain manufacturer. Information retreived from Black Mesa's archive in New Mexico reveal that Cave Johnson was called before the US Senate hearings but that information was redacted. There was an explosion near Vance City some time ago, but we don't know the cause of that, hoever, there were always rumours of a science facility – along the lines of Area 51, that type of thing."

"The only industry near here was salt mining, but that was back in the 20th Century. I didn't know about an explosion but I've not been at the Centre for long – I moved here after my medical degree."

"You managed to keep studying?" Alyx exclaimed with genuine pleasure.

"Yes, after the war of independence," Dr Cross blushed. 

"Has Wheatley mentioned anyone else at Aperture," Gordon asked.

"Caroline, Her – which are not the same person, I managed to clarify that, and Chell, a mute heroine of his story – well, what I thought was a story, anyway."

"What does the mute women do?"

"She was originally going to help them both escape the facility but he was plugged into the mainframe – as a Personality Sphere – and became corrupt and tried to kill her. She escaped using a Portal Gun, he was put into space. She – that is Her – pulled him back, deposited him back into a human body and left him in the wheat field he was found in."

"Where is the wheat field?"   
"Around 10 miles west of the City. Luckily we are not near any coastline here, just farmlands. The City mayor hopes for self-suffiency in a decade." She was rambling, she knew it, but they seem sympathetic enough. 

"The Proctor can give you more details about the City, I think. You have to excuse me, I need to check on Wheatley after his treatment."

The Proctor began a tour as Dr Cross left them and briskly walked towards Wheatley's room, exchanging bows with the Vortigaunt as they passed in the corridor. 

The dark circles under Wheatley's eyes were gone, but he still gave a slight twitch every now and then. The scars on his limbs were absent and as he leant forward for her to inspect his neck, there was only a small patch of missing hair that signified where the disc had been. 

"I remember everyone," he began, shyly at first (unusual for him, noted the doctor) "from back in Bristol to where I worked – I hadn't thought of them for years! And my work – I was a physisit and I started remembering formulas and working with Doug on the spheres. And Caroline, I remember she promoted me. I was once of the gifted ones on the team, she told me! I'm a bloody genius now!"

"What about the Personality Spheres, Wheatley?"   
"I developed them for companions to test subjects."  
"Can you remember any names?"  
"Well, Doug worked alongside me – he was the biologist, had a thing for Companion Cubes, there was Rick, the janitor – he was always trying to chat the women up – very unprofessional that, honestly, he was a total pervert..."  
"The test subjects?"  
"I remember one, a woman? Have I mentioned her before?"

"Yes, yes Chloe, this Dr Freeman," huffed the Proctor as his assistant practically jumped up and down in front of the amused couple.

"You mentioned the mute woman?" asked Chloe, practically bursting with news.

"Yes," replied Alyx.

"You mentioned a woman before, Wheatley. Can you remember her name?"

"'You know her?' She knew her. She murdered Her."

"What is her name Wheatley?"

Wheatley suddenly remembered who it was. How did he forget that?

"There is a mute woman who works at a shopmart in town, she attended here two months ago Proctor."

Chloe looked at Alyx. Wheatley stared at Dr Cross.

"Her name is Chell."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyx meets Chell.
> 
> Players of Team Fortress may recognize the Proctor...

Alyx stared at Chloe.

"Where is Chell?"

"She works at the Shopmart on Eli's Way. She stays at the main apartments in G-Block, my flat is in there."

"Would she mind a visit, do you think? Quietly, of course, we don't want a lot of fuss."

"Oh sure, she's obviously quiet, but she is friendly. Lent me her K-Reader the other day."

"Ok," smiled Alyx. "Let's arrange that, ok?"

 

Dr Cross left Wheatley with his lunch as she made her way to the staff room, only to be met by the Proctor.

"Chloe has informed us of the mute woman's address, Chell."

"Wait, what?" Dr Cross was genuinely bewildered. Not 10 minutes ago, she had been discussed Chell as a fragment of Wheatley's fixation and now she was real? 

"Ms Vance and Doctor Freeman wish to visit her soon."

"Will that do any good?"

"I think they want to investigate Aperture a little further, they want to talk to Wheatley when he is fully rested. The Vortigaunt did a wonderful job, I think. Dr Freeman wants to take the disc back to analyse it – I would like to perform some more scans on Wheatley's brain to access the healing process."

"Healing's better than the hurting he had," smiled Dr Cross, sadly. The Proctor did not miss this.

"You have done good work with him, you know. All healing involves a lot of time and we are all seeing improvements in his behaviour."

"He seems more settled, more rested now."

"Gut. Good. You must get some lunch yourself, you know," and the Proctor left her, striding towards the garden.

Alyx moved the ancient microfiche continously – the maps of Vance City were stored on this and she moved slowly but steadily, not wanting to damage the libraries' archive. A salt mine had been marked up to 1951, but then the map was unmarked, save for farmland and a blank.

Here be monsters, she thought, and input some approximate co-ordinators into the communicator for Gordon, who would travel to the site this afternoon, while she went to see Chell. Gordon was not the talkative sort, so she would handle the interview and see what she could find out. Dr Cross was going to come along, to observe and see how Chell's information could help Wheatley.

Late afternoon, and Gordon strode purposefully towards a small metal shack in the middle of a huge wheat field. Alyx's co-ordinates had been fairly accurate, but then he knew he could trust her implictly. They had been through so much and he had almost lost her until the Vortigaunt had healed her. He had felt tension, stress and anxierty through the many battles of the Resistance, but that was the one time he had felt real fear.

He slung his backpack onto the ground, next to a faint heart shape in the soil. Removing a small case, he retrieved the small optic fibre and placed it under the door. Then, linking the connector to his communicator, he slowly swept the fibre from side to side, examining the interior. And, with only a little suprise, he saw the top of an elevator shaft, with the lift still at its top.

Chloe tapped on the door, and bounced on her heels expectantly, all but ignoring Dr Cross. Her, with Alyx, of all people! A few quick footsteps, and Chell opened the door, her ponytail still damp from the quick shower after work, a fresh change of clothes. But one of the things Alyx noticed was the faint smudges under Chell's eyes, that spoke of shattered sleep and bad memories – she saw that sometimes in her own mirror.

Alyx smiled. "Hello Chell. Chloe's told me so much about you."

Chell raised an eyebrow but smiled at Chloe and motioned for all of them to come inside her apartment.

Sparsely furnished but spotlessly clean, Chell's living room was dominated by a large, well scrubbed cube, grey with a pink love heart in the middle. A bookshelf fairly groaned with paperbacks and a couple of magazine tablets lay on the chair. Chell quickly cleared them away, and sat, indicating they should join her. She looked quizzically at them, then bent forward for a series of hacking coughs. 

Chloe looked troubled. "I told you we could look at that at the Medic Centre."  
"Of course," Dr Cross agreed. "It would only take a few moments to perform a few tests." Did she flinch at the suggestion? Alyx's forehead had furrowed – so she had noticed that as well? 

"I'm glad you agreed we could come and see you," began Dr Cross carefully. "We were wondering if you could help with some information about a friend of ours."

Chell took her pad and wrote – Who?

"A gentleman we found wandering in a wheat field west of here two months ago," (a jolt. Of recognition? She hoped so). "He mentioned a place named Aperture Science and a lady named Chell. Do you know anything about a science facility?" 

Chell wrote for a long time, occasionally pausing with a deep breath. Here were three people who barely knew her, yet she felt safe trusting them with this infomation. Perhaps she had not been around people enough but she felt the urge to tell someone.

She wrote about Aperture, and waking up twice in a Relaxation Chamber. Of the different Portal Guns and Glados. Of defeating two corrupted evil mainframe computers, the last one involving shooting a portal to the moon and losing her innocent, hopeless corrupted friend to space. Of being finally released, of finding the town, a job, an apartment. Of her nervousness around humans and of trying to use her voice, only to find that, after all this time, she could not make a sound.

Chloe chatted about her job to Chell, as Alyx and Dr Cross perused the message. Dr Cross was stunned, so Alyx began to ask a question, only for Chell to motion for the pad.

"What is his name?"

"His name is Wheatley." Alyx replied. "He's been looking for you, he's been wor-"

Chell shook her head violently, a look of anger and shock on her face. She gripped the pen tightly and wrote one word:-

"NO!"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyx and Chell return to the Centre. Gordon investigates Aperture.

Chapter Eight.

Chell started back and almost shrunk into her chair. Months had passed since she had last seen Wheatley, his last shouts of "Grab, grab me," fading into black as she sank into unconciousness in the vacuum of space. He was a sphere floating into space, there was no chance he could be back. Aperture Science constructs could stand high temperatures but a re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere –no, she shook her head violently.  
"No, he's at the cen-," Chloe began, but Dr Cross stopped her.  
"We did not want to distress you, I'm sorry,"  
"Come back with us," urged Alyx. "We need your help in defeating this facility. You wouldn't be on your own." Dr Scott looked askance but Alyx contiued.  
"The Vortigaunt we have brought with us could heal you from your previous injuries. You must have taken some damage from the gels and experiments."  
Chell considered this, but there was a wary look in her eyes that Dr Cross didn't care for. Too much information too soon?   
"At least come back to the Medic centre and see the Vortigaunt." That, at least, was reasonable, to rid herself of this hacking cough.  
Chell sighed and stood, collecting her things. With Alyx's arm around her, she took one backward glance towards the Companion Cube, before closing the door on her apartment.

 

Gordon was inputting nano-bots into the cable, ready to retrieve any information from the mainframe that he could. Sitting beside the door, he took a drink, receiving a message from Alyx.

"I'll be at the Medic Centre with Chell and Dr Scott. She gave us a lot of information about Aperture which will be useful in shutting it down. Glados is the mainframe computer we need to shut down to release any test subjects that are left. Gordon, the base is miles underground. Hazmat suits? Asbestos hazard?"

Gordon frowned at the screen. Hazmat suits would be easy to get, but would it make it harder to move around? They would need something to move any large objects around, since there would be three of them – Chell would be the expert and Alyx would insist on travelling with them. The nano-bots were retreiving a lot of information and Gordon checked the monitor, making sure that the memory could cope.

 

Wheatley glanced up from his book, as the transport arrived at the Centre. Through the glass, he could see Dr Cross and the Proctor's assistant arrive, chatting (nice girl, her. Good listener. Chloe, was it? He had a terrible memory for names). They had obviously been into the City but he no need to go into there. Without Chell, what was the point?

And so Wheatley bent to his book, missing the pale, pony tailed girl who followed them into the Centre.

Chell was suprised to see the Vortigaunt, but nowhere as frightened as Wheatey had been – she was made of stronger stuff, Alyx decided. She left Chell to her healing and made her way to Wheatley's room, only to find it empty. Puzzled, she went to look, but Dr Cross had beaten her to it.

"Wheatley, we found out where Aperture is. We know what they did."  
For once in his life, Wheatley was dumbstruck.  
"So, you believe me?"  
"Yes, I'm just sorry I doubted you. I did not have a clue that this facility was here, what they did."  
Wheatley considered this.  
"I suppose it was a fairly unbelievable story," he mused. "If someone had come up to me and told me-"  
Struck with sudden hope – "Did you find Chell?!"

How did Dr Cross explain this? This innocent would be crushed if he knew Chell's reaction to the fact he was alive. What did she do?

 

Chell drifted in the warmth as the Vortigaunt surrounded her with the healing. Her chest lost the tightness that had plagued her since she had stumbled through the wheat, carrying the Cube. 

"He lives, Chell." A whisper. "He lives and is waiting for you."

A smile illuminated her face. At long last, Chell rested.

 

Gordon strode to the transport and examined the data as he sped back to the Medic Centre. His muscles had stiffened with sitting so long – he was getting a touch old for adventure. Yet he would not back away from this one – if there were Test subjects they needed releasing – if they were still alive, that is.

Another arrival, a welcome distraction for Dr Cross, as she avoided Wheatley's question and went to meet Gordon, inwardly cursing herself for backing out from the truth. Sooner or later Wheatley would need to know about Chell and her attitude towards him. But to take his happiness now, when he had only regained his full facilities – no, not yet.  
Classic Avoidance behaivour, her mind whispered, but she paid it no mind. If Chell was right about survivors at Aperture – and there was no guarantee, if the tale of an insane mainframe computer was right – there would need to be extra staff alocated to the Centre, extra foster families to be found, to help adapt patients to the new outside world. Her mind full of plans, Dr Cross hurried to meet them.

 

Sunset, and Chell awoke, inhaling a fresh breath of a new life. The whiper of information had stayed with her. Wheatley, her Wheatley, was alive and she could find him. The Vortigaunt had swept into her room and she hugged him, suprising the alien. Normally humans were wary creatures, but this was a new, pleasant sensation. Chell glanced and smiled up at him for saving her. She had not found her voice yet, that would take time. Hungry, she gave a last smile to the alien, before searching for the kitchen.

 

Wheatley was puzzled by the doctors behaviour (Dr... Cross? Unfortunate name that, lovely woman) but dismissed it as he ate. If she knew something then she would tell him – after all he talked to everyone, even if they smiled politey and started to back away (why did they do that? Everyone chatted, didn't they? At least it was better than the management rail, gliding alone. For bloody years.)

A tap on the door and the new lady (Alice something?) stepped in. Smiling at him – oh a first, that!   
"Hello," he said, then twitched. "Alice, isn't it?"  
"Alyx. Hello Wheatley, how are you?"  
"Oh I'm fine, honestly. The green alien – wonderful he was. Remembered all sorts of things that I'd thought of in years, honestly! Did you know I'm from Britain? Bristol actually – oh, you wouldn't have heard of it-"  
"Wheatley-"  
"And then I transferred here and worked for Aperture, designing Personality Spheres with Doug, and then I was a Sphere and then we escaped, so that's you up to speed and-"  
"Wheatley – "  
"Oh, and then I've been here! Nice place, bit quiet at times. I don't get visitors so this is a nice change. Would you like tea?"  
"Thanks, Wheatley, what I was going to say was –"  
"Oh and the library! My brain's bloody massive now! Takes in all sorts of stuff."  
"Wheatley –"  
"Hello!"  
Laughing, Chell finally got to speak.  
"Wheatley, we managed to find out more about Aperture today,"  
"Glados runs that. Proper maniac, she was. I installed her into a potato, heh. Errr.."  
So Aperture can run on very low voltage, can it? Interesting to know that, though Alyx. Must mention that to Gordon. But that recollection had brought a worried look to Wheatley's face and it bothered her.  
"When did you do that?"  
He stared at his hands, the long fingers wringing around themselves, an oddly touching gesture.

"I went evil, luv," he stated. "Couldn't help it once I ws plugged in. This itch, it was maddening and she called me a moron and I got so angry!"  
Alyx took his hands. "I don't think you're a moron, Wheatley. I think you're very brave,"  
Wow, two people had told him that. And both women as well, so that was something...  
"Oh, I wasn't the brave one, Chell escaped – well, I think she was. She went back through the portal when I went into space. She tried to grab me."  
"It's ok, Wheatley, she did escape-"  
"I mean, Glados fixed it and grabbed her back – hang on..."  
Wheatley stared his visitor. A light feeling had filled his chest, even though his heart had suddenly sped up.  
"I saw her this afternoon, Wheatley. Chell is alive."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyx and Gordon make more discoveries - but how can they take down Aperture? And can Chell and Wheatley recover?

Chapter Nine

Alyx was stunned by his reaction when Wheatley grabbed her hands, a huge smile on his face. Of course now she couldn't get a word in as he babbled.

"I have to see her, I have to tell her I'm sorry that I was bossy and monstrous and stupid. The programming, it confused me, I didn't have the right mind, the Brain to cope with it. I can tell her all sorts of stuff now. Has she got better from the gels? I didn't hurt her with the mashy spike plates did I? Oh, and she's not fat, well I don't think she's fat, not that it matters, and I can tell her I remember all sorts now,"

His colour was hectic, he was pacing as Gordon, the Proctor and Dr Cross entered.

He turned to them, "I can talk to her, tell her everything, say I'm sorry,"

"Wheatley, please be calm,"

"I need to see her. Please let me see her! I have to talk,"

Two orderlies came into the room. Alyx glared at them as they advanced. Dr Cross began,

"Please Wheatley, you must calm yourself. Let's sit down and ta-"

"No, let me see her, let me find her. She's all I thought about in space, please." That last a drawn out plea.

"Please sit Wheatley," The Proctor motioned to the orderlies, who walked and took each of his arms.

"No," a thrashing of long limbs that threatened to catch them off guard.

"Hold him, please. Wheatley, please listen." The Proctor leant over as Alyx backed off, sick to her stomach. 

"Please!" The needle nearer now. Wheatley was thrown into a panic.

"No! No.no.no.no...no......please.....plea,"

The orderlies lay him on the floor, gentle now the drug had taken effect. Tears were still drying on his face as they placed him on the gurney and wheeled him back to his room.

"Why? Why did you do that?" Alyx shouted. Gordon walked over to her and took her arm.

"I'm sorry that you are upset Miss Vance, however, as you have seen Wheatley was in a very emotionally fragile state. He has only regained all of his mental facility – any undue mental trama could endanger him and cause a relapse or breakdown. We are always aiming for improvement."

The Proctor sat down and motioned for them to sit, but Alyx was too restless to comply.

"All he wanted to do was see Chell. You said yourself – " addressing Dr Cross "-that she was the only thing he talked about."

Dr Cross rubbed the bridge of her nose. "And how do you think he'd react when she rejects him?"

"You don't know that!"

"Miss Vance, you saw her reaction in her apartment." Dr Cross stated.

"Yes, but if they met-" started Alyx but the Proctor raised a hand.

"Both of these individuals have been through an incredible amount of physical and mental trauma. You have seen two emotional reactions from them today, with regards to the mere mention of them to each other. Emotionally, Wheatley has the mind of a child, an innocent, and needs time to adapt to this new life. He was only healed by a Vortigaunt this morning, remember? Chell was healed today too. You cannot rush healing in these type of cases, where quite frankly, we have not dealt with this sort of situation before. We have refined treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the cases thrown up by war, but this testing situation is new. The isolation, the daily threat of death – it leaves its mark on the psyche."

"You'd be suprised how strong people can be," stated Alyx defiantly, but the Proctor smiled at her.

"Miss Vance, I see it every day."

Chell wandered through the corridors, looking for a canteen, a vendi-mat, anything really, trying to fight off the deja-vu of white tiles and endless linoelum. She had passed two orderlies wheeling an incredibly tall man, unconcious on a gurney, very pale, thin. She overheard one of the orderlies mention "outpatient" to the other and assumed they must be talking about her. She needed to eat and entered a canteen where four chairs were askew, far from the counter. She must have just missed someone but the food smelled good and she was hungry. Her offer of money was waved away and she sat and savoured a good meal.

 

Alyx knew the Proctor was right, but it didn't take away the anger she had felt when Wheatley was sedated. But she had to concentrate now on the security recordings Gordon had downloaded, with the help of the nano-bots.   
She ran through the the security recordings...  
"Welcome to Aperture Science! If you are old, feeble minded or in any other way incapacitated that the future shouldn't start with you..."

"I don't want your damn lemons!"

"Say, just casually walk over to me and we'll mosey on out! Run, Run, I don't need to do the voice – Run!"  
Alyx smiled – Sweet Wheatley, thinking that a bad accent would work. That was .. misguided .. oh alright pretty dumb, but then he had guided her through ... oh smelly humans, Wheatley, really, and now the turrets and the neurotoxin.

Why would you put neurotoxin next to the Employee Daycare Centre?

And here is the Core Transfer, with Glados trying to kill Chell with turrets, and Wheatley bouncing down a redundant neurotoxin tube.

Substitute Core Ready! "Exactly how painful are we talking....?"

And then Wheatley changed and, oh, he had been right to say evil, he was guilt-ridden for a reason. He did put Glados in a potato, although it could be argued that was for self defence, but the knowledge that he was an Intelligence Dampening Sphere had sent him completely over the edge.

"COULD A MORON PUNCH YOU INTO THIS PIT? Hah? Could a MORON do that?"

Oh Wheatley, why Wheatley?

Alyx examined the files relating to the mainframe. There must have been something corrupting the entire system...

She found Caroline's file and read through the data from Cave instructing the engineers to download her brain into the computer, a side product of the Personality Core development Programme. Wheatley had not been involved with the transfer and his name did not appear in the record again. The compilers hadn't even bothered to record his first name. Glados's first act when switched on was to activate the neurotoxin and kill the scientists. That was with a Morality core. But, at some point, the Morality Core that affected Glados had been removed – by who?

Gordon moved his monitor next to hers as they compared plans about Aperture. But Alyx noticed something else on Caroline's file and scrolled down to double-check the entry. 

A file, much later than the others opened to reveal two sentences:-

SAVE THEM. DELETE ME.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chell, Alyx and Gordon prepare for Aperture.

Chapter Ten.

Aperture was registered to a salt mine in Michigan, so why were they going to enter one state away? Were there two seperate sites? Cave Johnson had covered his tracks well – there were several redacted and edited files in the database – from scanned duplicates of typed pages to downloads from people's brains.

Several schematics of machinery were included – turrets, who thought they were hugging you, spheres that worked occasionally, downloads of different voices – one, a woman, begging Mr Johnson, "I don't want this, Sir, I don't want this," which so disturbed Alyx, that she went to walk outside for fresh air.

She looked across to the Medic Centre, lit up with soft lighting so as not to disturb the residents and to lose any institional image. The wind carried noise through the quiet night and once she heard sobbing. She listened, but it didn't occur again and, getting cold, she went back into the hotel.

Gordon replaced his communicator. He had ordered the Hazmat suits and the equipment they would need to enter and rescue the Test subjects from Aperture. Was this strictly a rescue mission, he wondered? Could they seize the chance to disable Glados once and for all?

And would they persuade Chell to go back in? They would be helped by her knowledge of the chambers and the layout of the facility. Miles down, underground, surrounded by the voices of the dead... No, Gordon considered, he wouldn't want to return there if he were her.

Alyx was watching Wheatley being defeated by Chell and his own hubris. His speech reminded her of a child throwing a tantrum, with his accusations and threats. 

"I took the liberty of watching you defeat Her.."

So Chell was right when she had written about two insane mainframes. Alyx thought and then paled.  
Chell had removed the Morality Core. That left Wheatley with no way to control the dangerous impulses once he had been exchanged. Of course, that was the programmers fault, not Chells, not Wheatley, and she would never say anything about this now. Unless it could lessen his guilt, because it wasn't his fault....

Falling asleep in the chair, Alyx was carried to the bed and covered up by Gordon, who lay beside her now, planning the next step. Dreams of chambers filled his head.

No dreams for Wheatley, who came around slowly and groggily. A nurse smiled down at him and asked how he was. He didn't answer and turned his face to the wall. If he couldn't see anyone, especially Chell, then what was the bloody point?

Dr Cross came to try and talk to him. He refused to speak to her. Silence was a good defence, he had learned that from Chell. He ate little, drank a lot and stared at the ceiling, his hands folded on his chest.

He had to see her and talk to her. The doctors would not let him. Escape from the Centre would be difficult, as it was hard to hide when you are 6 foot seven inches. How could he get out? How did he find her?

Wandering through the corridors, he came to some double doors that opened to the back of the Centre, facing west. It would be so simple to open them and get out that way, wouldn't it? Leaning hard on the bar, he was shocked when an alarm sounded and foorsteps came towards him at speed. Sinking to his knees, he hugged himself as two orderlies glanced at each other, then lifted him up and escorted him to his room.

Chell filled out her contact card at the Reception, before she left to meet Alyx and Gordon at the hotel. An alarm sounded, and, some minutes later, a tall, thin man was taken past the Reception, down a corridor, towards the Wards. She felt a moments pity for him – he was the same man she'd seen on the gurney but she had to concentrate on Aperture and rescuing Wheatley – that was what the whisper meant, surely? He would be waiting, he would be better and she could take him out of there.

A transport speeded past here to the hotel, with a container – obviously something important, judging by the speed. She trod into the hotel, to be met by Alyx. 

"Feeling ok,". A nod was the response. "Come on up, Gordon and I have been going over some plans to tackle Aperture. We've been looking at Security files and seeing how to hack into the system."

A afternoon passed with the thre of them their plans. Romm service brought them meals, with the staff in awe of Alyx and Gordon, Chell noticed. Chell also read through some the files that Alyx passed to her, looking for Wheatley. He was in charge of developing the Personaliy Cores – how ironic, she noted to herself. 

Maps showed the various levels of Aperture, but this was no suprise to her – she had seen the vaious dates the last time she had visited the place. Aperature had built and drilled and built again, it seemed, insulating the areas with abestos to keep the lower levels cool. Not OSHA compliant in the least, Aperture had simply experimented without regard to safety, or morality, or care. And she would end it now, she would find him, she would save them both.

Tomorrow, Aperture would end.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Chell, Alyx and Gordon explore Aperature, Vilko the gardener must do some exploring of his own.

Chapter Eleven.

A new dawn, and the three of them stood before the shack, wearing the Hazmat Suits and holding the weapons. Chell noticed the faint heart shape in the dirt, with a pang. She visualed her apartment with the Cube, but she would have someone to show it to when she returned.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Gordon asked. It was the longest sentence she'd heard him speak.

"Yes," she said. Gordon aimed and blasted the door off its hinges.

Three of them stood in the lift and went down, past turrets who asked "Are you still there?" as they sank beneath them. Coming to a stop, the lift opened and a new, cleaned up Aperture awaited.

There was one lab that remained cluttered and the three of them paused to look in. A machine, suspended over a long table, held cables and needles – so many needles, so much blood – and lying on the floor was metal. And a portal gun. 

Chell lifted it from the ground and tested it, just to be sure. A blue and orange portal appeared where she directed them and she smiled.

"It's impressive," stated Alyx, warmed by the smile on Chell's face. But the smile began to fade...

"Chell, what's wrong," (Stupid question Alyx, she thought, Everythings wrong in this place...)

Chell ducked behind the table and didn't emerge but her cry did. Both of them entered, to find Chell cradling a metal ball in her hands. The metal casing was smashed, the blue optic inside was cracked across and some circuitry fell out of the back as Chell lifted it up. 

Alyx had seen many terrible things. She had seen what the Combine had done. She had seen Ant Lions, Headcrabs and all manner of god-awful creatures during the War of Resistance. But she had never seen anyone so broken as Chell at that moment, grieving for her friend.   
"He's gone, she broke him," was all she could understand as Chell sobbed beside her. Gordon had been alerted to some noise in the corridor and walked out to investigate. Alyx soothed Chell as best as she could but they had to move. They had to find the Test subjects and get Chell back to Wheatley –damn what the doctors said!

In the corridor, all three of them stopped and stared at the two androids who blocked their path. One fat, one thin, they stood with portal guns, staring back at them.

"I remember you," said Chell thickly. "You were in the chamber when I awoke."

The two androids looked at one another, then her, then nodded.

"Where are the test subjects? Did you find them?"

The androids looked at one another, jumped and high-fived and buzzed for them to follow. Puzzled, Alyx and Gordon warily followed Chell as she strode, following the robots.

First they would free the test subjects and then, Caroline being deleted (how Glados had taken great delight in telling her that) she would kill Glados. For them, for her and for Wheatley.

 

Dr Cross had heard of Wheatley's behaivour but she would have to tackle the new influx of staff, ready to care for the intake of test subjects from Aperture. Gordon's detailed notes that she had received that morning indicated a lot of subjects in stasis, ready to be awoken. Mostly transients, that had been bribed to take part, then sedated and stored for later. It reminded her of a spider with a store of flies. With a shudder, she quickened her pace to the Proctor's office, ready for the planning meeting with the other members of staff.

 

Wheatley stood at his window, watching the influx of visitors, wondering what was going on. His natural instinct was to chat to them, but too much talking now involved needles and he still felt fear when thinking of that.   
Wandering into the corridor, people passed him, moving furniture, equipment, storage blocks and bedding.   
"The libaries' the other way, Wheatley," called one of the orderlies.  
"Thanks," he shouted back. "Just getting a drink,".  
"Friendly guy, from England, I think," was all he caught as they went around a corner and disappeared from view. He continued to the reception, where, of course the door was open.   
"Don't get in the way, Wheatley," warned the receptionist, as more staff entered and the Proctor emerged to greet them.  
"Take a seat, Wheatley, it's a bit busy here," he said and patted Wheatley's shoulder as Wheatley sat on the first available chair.   
"Please, everyone, if you could come this way into our Conference Room."  
Vilko wandered into the recption area and saluted at the Proctor before clasping Wheatley's hand.  
"Come, help me in the garden, it is much too noisy here." Wheatley followed him obediantly, with the occasional twitch of his head.  
"Is too noisy and a man cannot think! Pass me Sasha, I will work here."  
Wheatley passed a hoe to Vilko and quickly glanced at the hedges. Vilko had been repairing the fences behind them, he seemed to remember. Vilko chatted aimably on, watching Wheatley's shadow nod beside him as he worked.

Vilko stood and stretched. "You are very quiet, my friend. Come, let us have a drink and we can talk."  
No shadow? Perhaps he had sat down, he liked to sit and read. Vilko turned and glanced around the garden. A know of worry seemed to tighten his stomach as he searched the gardens and grounds.

Wheatley had gone.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will Wheatley do with his freedom? What will GLADOS do with her visitors?

Chapter Twelve.

The Proctor's meeting was cut short by a brief, purposeful communication from Gordon, indicating that the subjects had been found and were now being revived. The communciation was cut short however, and the Centre was waiting for further news. When none came, they readied the transports and made their way to the farmland, awaiting further instructions.

"Liebling, what is the matter? I saw you seaching the gardens, you've not lost Natascha again have you?"

"No, I am sorry, I took my eyes off him for one moment and he had gone."

"Who?"

"Wheatley, he was so quiet, I knew something was wrong." 

The Proctor thought for a moment.

"We have many transports out in the area now. We can simply put a call out to them and the police in the area to look for him. He is not very strong, you know, he cannot get far."

The Proctor hugged Vilko but he worried too. Wheatley ws not physically strong, not yet, and he did not like to think of him alone out there. With his frame, he was easy to spot, that would work in his favour. The Proctor smiled nervously at Vilko and went inside to use the communicator.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Glados had stopped the communication by Gordon and the walls followed their progress, shifting only slightly to show three pairs of feet. To show herself too soon would spoil the test. The other subjects were weak flabby specimens – what did it matter if they had short sad lives on the outside?

She had lied about the deer. She was very good at lying.

Where were her robots? What were they doing? They had very valuable portal guns. Did they not understand the work they were doing for science, the most important thing above all considerations?  
Humans were weak, moronic. There was a whole maintenance area, ready to construct more robots as needed. But no metal balls, no, no more of them. She still had the Core Transfer information in her memory, a painful, painful mem-

Where were the files? Where. Were. Her. Files!

Someone had hacked, no, violated her! How dare they? Who were they? Who was travelling through HER facility? Why were the turrets defective again....

Oh no. No No No No NO! That dangerous mute lunatic? It couldn't be that lanky mess of a human – he did not have the intelligence or cunning to mess around with her...

Except when you were a potato...

That was his sheer stupidity, overwhelmed by HER mainframe. Oh, the damage he had done to her facility....

"Warning! Neurotoxin at dangerously unlethal levels." Laughter greeted this announcement from somewhere – they were mocking her! How dare they! They? Not her?

Oh they would pay. She would put them in the room where all the robots scream at you...  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wheatley was glad to get away from the heat, it was nearing midday. He drained the last of Vilko's water a little guilty, for water was in short supply. Was Vilko looking for it? Wheatley decided that Vilko was strong enough to sort that out for himself, big bloke that he was.

In the darkness, he thought as to why he had come. Aperture had been the only real home he had known. Bristol was too distant a memory now, and given the passing of time, his family would be gone now. 

During the time on the management rail, he had noted the areas where the human scientists had shooed him away from, or laughed at him when he'd tried to enter, he could use those areas to live out the rest of his days. Video footage of Chell asleep was better than nothing at all. There was only a little food and no hot water but it was better, better than what he had now. But the lift had gone! And judging by the shrieks of rage drifting up from the lift shaft, he could wait a little longer.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
With no neurotoxin and no turrets, Glados would have to use the bombs that the moron had so kindly left for her, the portals and Glados's own style of revenge. Not consumed by such a petty human emotion as revenge, oh no, she was merely in it for the science. Their skeletons would be displayed in the foyer – for momentos. Nothing more. Not trophies, she chuckled to herself.

Chell heard the low laughter but strode on regardless, as Alyx and Gordon paused, then followed. Chell turned around and said one word.

"Her"

he conveyor belt still had the Propulsion gel on it and was still moving as the trio descended the stairs, but Glados had repaired the catwalk – but not Wheatley's smashed screen, Chell noted bitterly.

Crossing over, she retraced her steps to the lair, with Gordon using the Gravity gun to place metal strips between the restored blocks of her facility. Above them, machinery whirred, now raising lifts full of people to the surface. Gordon had tried the communicator again but no luck.

"I really wouldn't bother with that, if I were you," and Chell could hear the sneer in her voice. She darted forward, only for Alyx to catch her sleeve. "We go together. Can you place a portal into the lair?"

There was nothing to plug into the mainframe this time, so Chell aimed her portal gun up to the lair and ran back to place another portal next to the defective cores. They all fell through the portals and stood up to face Her.

"I told you to go." 

Chell stood, not giving her the satisfaction of a response. Why bother? 

"I hope you brought something better than a portal gun this time, ha ha."

Gordon smiled. He knew he had. Glados swung round to him as he aimed a Gravity Gun at the catwalk and smashed it. 

"How impressive." A pair of pincers came down and grabbed a chunk of metal, ready to fling but the three of them split up, Gordon firing pieces back at her.

"The moron left me his shields. Do you thinks chunks of metal can harm me?"

Glados swung to block them, releasing the bombs to finish them off, but Chell knew this tactic and redirected the bombs. Shrieks of anger and pain filled the chambers – with no pipes or fluid running thorough the space was bleak and an echo chamber.

Almost deafened, Alyx and Gordon fired metal at the shields, hoping to pierce the shields and fire the bombs back at the computer. Swinging wildly, Glados could only fire randomly, her sensors blocked by shields and damaged by metal. She seemed to struggle with herslf as she aimed at Chell – why wouldn't Caroline stay dead? 

Chell was underneath the main chassis now and Glados paused, glaring down at her opponent. Exhausted, Chell stared up, trying to caclulate the best place for a portal. The yellow light dimmed.

"My dear one," said Caroline. "Finally, I can see you."

Chell raised on her elbows and stared uncomprehending at the mainframe.

"Caroline, this is Chell," said Alyx "Chell, this is your -"

"It doesn't matter now," said Caroline, moving as low as she could to look at Chell. 

"I need you to use the other gun, to destroy this mainframe. Once the mainframe shuts down, all the lifts are programmed to go up to the top. You will be free. And so will I."  
Chell stood and placed her head against the white surface as Gordon walked over and handed her the Gravity Gun.

"Farewell, dear one," said Caroline and bowed her head.  
Chell wanted rid of Glados. More than anything, she wanted this to end. She, and her friend, had been tortured enough. And setting Caroline free was an added bonus – Glados had lied about the deletion, but then she lied about everything.  
Caroline spoke, for the last time,

"Delete me, save them."

Chell fired.

Screams of pain followed them up the lift shaft as the lights flickered and the machinery groaned. Alyx clung Gordon, as Chell sank to the floor, her last image of Glados with her parts scattered on the floor of the lair, her screams of defeat ringing around the room. All was done, all was gone, all that remained was to escort the test subjects back to the Centre and to go back to her room.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The lift stopped and the three of them ran into the wheat field. Around them, people were wandering up ramps, escorted by the two robots scurring around, exchanging hugs and high fives. Alyx smiled at that, but Chell drifted, removing her Hazmat suit and lying down.

A tall figure emerged from the shed, wandered over and sat next to her.   
"I'm sorry I was cruel and monstrous and I wish I could take it all back."  
She knew that voice. Had her mind finally snapped after all this?  
She opened her eyes and shielded them against the setting sun, sat up and looked at a very thin chest, clothed in a blue shirt that matched – she looked up. His eyes. His very blue eyes.

She stared. She reached out and nervously placed her palms on his frame. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," and he nervously bit his lip.

Chell looked into his very very blue eyes. And watched that sideways twitch.

"Wheatley?" (Please, please, please, please....)

"You can talk. Chell, you can talk! Oh, that is wonderful, you've destroyed the labs, you've saved people, oh very well done... Oooooofff," as Chell grabbed him and hugged him and smiled up at him.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Alyx and Gordon sat together, finishing a drink that the Medic Centre had provided as they transported their new patients back. One of the orderlies had tried to get Wheatley to go back with him, only for Chell to intervene angrily – Wheatley was staying with her.

The sun now sets on a small, slumped female, leaning against a tall, lanky fellow who strokes her hair. Together, they will board a transport back to the City and Chell will introduce the Companion Cube, will make up a seperate bed and watch while he sleeps, to insure against nightmares.

But, for now, they sit, and he strokes her hair and identifies this new feeling. Content? No. Happy? No.

Joy.

 

The End


End file.
